


My Whole Life, Too

by avyssoseleison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actually Ageing Bodies, Growing Old Together, Human Castiel, M/M, Mention of sex, Nudity, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: The past is in the past, and should stay there too, because the present, with all its wrinkles and aches and soft Sunday mornings, is so much sweeter.





	My Whole Life, Too

**Author's Note:**

> The title was obviously taken from Elvis' "Can't Help Falling In Love".
> 
> And on a different note, yeah, I'm not dead. Sorry for being MIA. I posted some more fic on [my blog](http://avyssoseleison.tumblr.com/) (and I generally post everything I write there, whereas only a few things make it to my ao3), so feel free to check it out whenever you miss me or wonder what I'm up to.

He is not “too old” to feel desire anymore or any such nonsense, but he is simply too sleepy for that today. Or right now, at least. Cas and him went to bed early last night, after a glass of scotch each and a slow kissing session that made them forget all about the quiz show they were watching, yet Dean still feels tired. That’s nothing unusual in itself; his energy levels are always a gamble these days, regardless of how much or little he sleeps. Sometimes, all he needs are three hours to feel well-rested and brave, other times, he can’t seem to get out of bed even after spending half a day in there and psyching himself up to finally get up. 

He yawns as he reflects on this, and only remembers that Castiel is still standing damp and naked from his bath a few feet in front of him, rifling through the mountain of clothes he amassed on the loveseat. Cas might be just as old and gray as Dean now, just as slowed down by time as any human eventually does, but he is also just as devastatingly handsome as he used to be. The crinkles around his eyes have gotten deeper, his dark hair has taken on a very suave shade of gray, and his ass almost seems to have perked up even more. Sometimes, Dean calls him his “handsome young man” just to see him roll his eyes and smile, and whenever he does that and has gotten his share of amusement out of Cas’ reaction, Cas will draw him close, kiss his cheek and call him his “handsome old man”. To his dying day, Dean will deny that this might be like half the reason (and then some) he does this in the first place.

Even now, the thought of it makes Dean smile and chuckle, although another yawn cuts him short soon enough. Damn, but he really wanted to be fit today. After all, he means to take Cas to the park to show him the new, colorful set of swings they installed on the playgrounds just a week ago and push him a bit on them, and then maybe go and have some coffee and pie at “their” café, the one they have been frequenting for more than ten years now. Also, he wanted to make love to Cas today, and yes, he intends to call it that when he invites Cas over on his side of the bed because he knows that Cas likes for him to call it that and, secretly, Dean likes it, too. 

But, doing all that seems so tiresome right now, and it’s only when Dean fights against yet another yawn that he notices that Cas is standing in front of him, unabashed in his wrinkled glory, and staring down at him with a frown that Dean already knows to mean he has probably said something, maybe a couple of times, but Dean didn’t hear him.

He smiles up at him lazily, hoping he comes across as nonchalant and not simply sleepy. “Sorry there, gorgeous, I didn’t hear you. I was distracted by this naked guy in my bedroom, you see.”

Cas snorts at that. “That same naked guy asked you whether you wanted to get naked, too, Dean.” His voice has only grown deeper and deeper over the years, and even now, Dean is not used to it and the shivers it sends down his spine. “I have been looking forward to taking you to bed all week, and as we have left things unfinished last night, I was wondering if you would like to continue.”

Really, Dean didn’t consider last night to have been unfinished business, but then again, Cas has always been the hornier one out of the two of them. Whereas Dean, contrary to popular belief, usually walked away satisfied from some kissing and, yes, cuddling, Cas seemed to have troubles considering anything affectionate over if he hadn’t gotten the full nine yards, hasn’t gotten as close and deep as in any way possible. So, it’s no wonder he isn’t done with last night’s session; his eagerness still manages to put a smile on Dean’s face.

“You sound ‘s if you’ve been planning this all week. Did you mark it in your calendar or what, Cas? Sunday: Fuck Dean? Make him feel it ‘til the Sunday after, and then rinse and repeat?”

“I may have,” Cas deadpans, and Dean really doesn’t know if he did or didn’t, “and regardless of that, I am quite certain that you have planned the same. I saw you taking candles upstairs yesterday, and I know that you only ever use candles if you want to seduce me.”

Oh but Jesus, Cas speaking of Dean  _ seducing _ him is as hilarious as it is embarrassing, and Dean’s cheeks flush as he is found out. “Maybe I wanted to take a bath like people on TV do. Candles, rose petals, and all.”

“You only ever take a bath if I am taking it with you,” Castiel points out. “Candles, rose petals, and all.”

Okay, so maybe Dean is a bit of a sap and maybe he never takes a bath by himself because he isn’t quite sure if he’ll be able to make it back out of the tub, what with the ongoing ache and stiffness in his knees. Taking one with Cas feels much better anyhow, and at least he can be sure he won’t drown or wrinkle up even more in slowly cooling water. Still, Dean didn’t think he was as transparent as this -- neither regarding the bathing nor the candles. 

“So what, you wanna call me out for being a dirty old man?” Dean playfully challenges him.

“I am not calling you out for anything. Like I said, I simply wanted to ask whether you are interested in resuming last night’s intimacies. You have been staring at me ever since I came out of the bathroom, so I assumed you were. I certainly am.” He steps up between Dean’s knees, his still soft dick on perfect height for Dean to kiss it and give it the attention it needs to stiffen fully these days. The scent and sight of Cas like this has Dean swallow thickly, and he wishes he were less sleepy, more alert and apt to do this.

“I am, too,” Dean promises, and his hands take hold of Cas’ thighs, slowly stroke them up and down, “but maybe later. I’m not, uh, really up for it right now.” The confession doesn’t bring as much shame as it used to -- all thanks to Cas’ endless patience and reassurances and understanding. Now, too, he already reaches for Dean with less heat than his gaze implied mere moments ago, only cards his hands through his hair in a soothing touch. “I wanted to, later on,” he reiterates, “when I’m more awake. Meant to show you some things first, anyhow”

“Hmm, what kind of things?” Castiel asks, not in a suggestive, but a curious tone. He knows that whenever Dean specifically wants to show him anything, it’s because Dean is convinced he will absolutely love it -- and the new swings, with their bright colors and funny animal paintings are one such thing.

“It’s a surprise,” Dean teases. “And one you need to be dressed for ‘cause there’s no way I can take you there while you’re naked.”

Castiel smiles as if Dean just issued a challenge, the nudist that he is, but he relents with a sigh and a compliant, “If you insist.”

“I do,” Dean chuckles, already excited for Cas to be happy about the swings and café and making love to him, and presses his forehead against Cas’ soft and naked stomach, just over the thatch of thinned out, wiry hair. He breathes deeply, enjoys the familiar scent of the man he has decided to spend his life and death with. 

“You’ll love it,” Dean whispers, because he knows he will.

And Cas just strokes one hand over the nape of Dean’s neck and down his pajama-clad back, leans down to the symphonic creaking of his own body to brush his lips over Dean’s hair, and vows, solemnly and sure, “I already do.”

 


End file.
